Song of the Champion
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [Game-verse] Their ideals and their personalities would always be at ends, even when one rose as the victor and the other lay in the ashes of defeat. For there were some battles that, in the end, could never truly conclude…


**A/N:** Written for Ebaz's The Keystone Signature competition for the G-major and G-minor keys. Also written for the 5,10,20,50,70,100 fandoms challenge as fandom 21.

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**Song of the Champion**

Mt. Coronet was as majestic as she remembered, although she had given it a wide breadth over the last few years as she travelled. With Togekiss to bear her weight, she had no need to struggle up the rough slopes, gravel and dirt dislodging under fingertips searching for a safe hold. It was calling to her now though: a restless symphony on the breeze that she could not avoid.

The first time she had climbed the mountain to its peak was the year she had become Champion, and she had fallen twenty-seven times on her way to the summit. Most of those had been the work of loose stones, and all but a few of those occurrences had ended with her rolling gently off her trusted Garachomp's back. The first few times – after she had the sense to release the part-dragon from her Poke ball – were amusing enough, worthy of remembered with small smiles and light blushes over a cup of chamomile tea, but after getting into double figures the falls did nothing save add to her bruises.

Now, she seldom fell, and when she did it was rare to come away from it with injury. She had grown much since the day she met Giratina, and even more since the day she had become a Pokemon trainer, head full of goals and ideals.

Oh, she had achieved them easily enough; she had been the youngest Champion in Sinnoh's history until Dawn had defeated her for the title – and it had been a relief to stand down and hand the circlet of fame to a well deserving other. Dawn deserved it; Cynthia herself had witnessed the teen's strength and her bonds with her Pokemon, defeated the leader of Team Galactic and then later facing and placating the rampaging Giratina…and then finally, the battle written in the Hall of Fame less than a year ago. It was a relief in a way; her youth had meant she had waited particularly long to be dethroned, but she had still done her own thing in the meantime and life had been good. A little harried at times, between problems in the region, challengers after her title and the usual hustle of the media – who was finally starting to get the message that there was a new Champion in town and she was a relic of the past – but a good life nonetheless. The only problem was she couldn't travel as freely as she once could.

The time had been well used though; the Canalave library, the old Ruins in Solaceon Town, the statue on the outskirts of Eterna City…she had plenty of time to study all of them and she had, imprinting every curve of stone into her mind. The Spear Pillar went unexplored; it simply took too long to climb through the interior of Mount Coronet and her absence would have been all too easily missed. It had been, the time she had chased after Dawn in a mild panic, learning the other's pursuit of Team Galactic…but she needn't have worried. Dawn had proven herself more than capable of handling the situation.

She had known at that moment – and accepted – that her era was over, and had turned her attention to other matters. Things in her research that intrigued or befuddled her. Places that called out to her. Old acquaintances that had long since gone their own way. And it was very satisfying indeed, going to each of those places, meeting up with old and new friends, without the glamour that had surrounded her life before. It was still an adventure – for what would life be without one – but one that drifted with the serene low tide lapping the sides of her little sturdy craft.

And she had more time to sit, think, and contemplate on the state of the world: her world. Which was what brought her to Mount Coronet: the place where she had left the stage and become a part of the backdrop: for all intents and purposes the place where she had become an adult, and truly grown up.

Or maybe she was now as old as her grandmother in wisdom, the Elder who now remained in her small cottage of Solaceon Town and told of the legend that lived within the ruins of the town. A legend that had, once, sent her climbing through the sloping walls of Mount Coronet chasing the beginning of their world and yet finding nothing. The next time – following the trail led by Team Galactic and Dawn – she had no time to pause and admire the pillar that rose from the pale peak…and she had waited, quelling the excitement, worry and other emotions aside, before returning a third time to it. She would learn nothing after all if she was overcome, and despite the words she had uttered on that very peak – and in the world beyond it – she too had been frightened. Frightened of the Pokemon in the space-time legend, the three of whom were said to have created Sinnoh from virtually nothing. And she had been frightened of the madman who had done everything in his power to destroy it; she was confident her Pokemon were more than a match for his, but the lack of control had screamed of danger and made her uneasy.

She finally clamoured up the last slope, Garachomp's claws scratching behind her as the ground-dragon followed. Eight pillars of stone still rose from the ground, though they were cracked and worn from the battle that had ensured almost a year ago and time had not been kinder since. A few Magneton floated around, though they fled at Garachomp's angry roar. Steel may have a defence against dragon type moves, but their electric half were no match against the beasts of the ground.

Cynthia smiled, and it seemed to her that her trusted partner was smiling as well. 'That wasn't necessary.'

'Chomp,' Garachomp agreed, flexing its claws, before looking over her shoulder and stiffening.

Cynthia, not noticing, had closed her eyes, taking in the dusty smell. 'It's been far too long,' she said quietly, 'but I'm grateful this opportunity has come nonetheless.' It was something she couldn't have done before; it had been enough of a panic when she had flown up the mountain in haste after an aspiring trainer had vanished from there, and she had barely been gone a week. Dawn had been gone longer of course, so it was natural her family, friends and associates were worried, but the pair of them found recorded images of themselves battling for the screen for many a week afterwards. It was something neither of them remembered too fondly; Dawn had complained of the trouble in getting to Sunnyshore City as a consequence.

'Grr,' Garachomp growled, and Cynthia turned, faintly puzzled. Her expression cleared though as she recognised the figure in the centre of the room – if one could call it that. Cloaked in the shadows, he had avoided her fleeting sight, but Garachomp's sharp instincts had caught him. And now that she saw his figure, he was easily identifiable, even if logs of black clung to him and she had only a small light with her.

'Cyrus,' she said calmly, inclining her head in greeting.

He grunted back at her, and she accepted it, stepping only a little closer. Part of her was still cautious, but the passage of time that had passed and the man that knelt on the ground told her the angry cloud had long since calmed and descended.

'Meeting you here in all places,' the once leader of Team Galactic grumbled. 'Come to arrest me then?'

Cynthia found herself smiling a little at that. 'I am just a civilian now,' she said, 'and if you are a changed man, there is nothing to arrest you for.'

'Hmmph.' The man stood, brushing himself off. 'Forgiveness is a fine virtue, but because of it the world continues to blacken.'

'I see you have not attempted to remake the world again in any case,' the blonde noted.

'…a foolish notion,' Cyrus said, with some hesitation and obvious restraint. 'The perfect world, in the end, would have to be one where nobody existed.' He closed his eyes. 'Spirit. Free will. It is these things that lead the world to ruin, and despite what has transpired here that truth has not changed.'

'I see,' Cynthia said, and she did…in a sense. 'It is as you said then; you and I will never see eye to eye.' She had been concerned, initially, expecting another catastrophe. Now though, she was simply sorrowful.

'I will find a way to change the world.' He straightened, a black figure against the grey. 'I vowed on this very spot that I would fix this evil.' He clenched his fists, then stopped and turned to meet the ex-champion. 'Will you not argue against me, as you did before?'

'There is no point,' Cynthia replied, and behind her the shadow of Garachomp crossed her arms. 'You are same as the spirit you wish to eliminate, and I see your self-preservation is worth more than your desire for a utopia.'

'You do?' Cyrus' face twisted into an odd sort of scowl. 'It is useless to fight on this topic.'

'It was fought upon, once.'

'But not by you.'

'No,' Cynthia agreed. 'It seems I am to preserve the past instead of the future.'

'Indeed it does.' The man turned away again, disgruntled. 'I would ask you for a battle, ex-Champion, if it would leave a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.'

'And if I were to challenge you?' the woman asked, eyes soft yet contemplative.

The man paused, having started his trek away, and considered with body taut and shoulders firm. 'But you won't,' was the answer he finally gave.

'But I won't,' Cynthia agreed.

'Then there is no reason to suggest it.' He took a few steps away, then stopped again. 'The world cannot slide forever into ruin.'

'It cannot.'

Cyrus sighed. 'Then you and I will take parallel paths to a parallel goal.'

The woman half smiled, cocking her head a little. 'If we had met at an earlier time, I may have called you my rival.'

'Hmmph, preposterous.'

With that disgruntled farewell he went through the cave, and Cynthia turned back and left the way she had come. Spear Pillar could, after all, wait a little longer; she had other things to contemplate at her leisure and she had a world of time after all.

She believed in the potential she had witnessed, and it was a sad reality Cyrus didn't feel the same. The mountain did too it seemed – believed that is – because it still guarded its Gate to the Distortion World, and the legendary Pokemon that watched over them from within. Once she had feared that Pokemon, having heard its fragmented legend: banished for its violence against human and Pokemon-kind, but that was before she had seen the hearts of human and Pokemon connect for a new future. A possibility she had always hoped, but now more than ever solidly believed.

'I think,' she said quietly aloud, and Garachomp turned to stare at her, 'you'll find, Cyrus, that the change of spirit you hope for will turn out quite different than you imagine.'

The pseudo-dragon made a choking sort of noise, as though snickering at the thought.

'Come, Garachomp.' Cynthia felt for the first foothold, preparing for the journey down. 'A meeting of fate is just as informative as a book of script, and there's no need to hurry such things.'

The world wouldn't be ending any time soon after all.


End file.
